


“I Love You” Is Unspoken

by connerluthorkent



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Massage, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Oswald Cobblepot Deserves Nice Things, Pining, Post-Episode: s05e08 Nothing's Shocking, Pre 5x10, Pre-Episode: s05e10 I Am Bane, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 05, Singing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, it is also painfully quiet and soft but i will not apologize, post 5x08, set at a fairly nebulous point during those nine months before the battle of Gotham, this has absolutely no plot and literally nothing happens in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 12:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18965407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connerluthorkent/pseuds/connerluthorkent
Summary: Ed and Oswald share a quiet moment in the midst of No Man’s Land.





	“I Love You” Is Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> Oswald deserves to have his leg massaged by someone other than Sofia Falcone.
> 
> It's been...a hot minute since I finished a fanfic or completed anything creative. I apologize for being rusty. Also, unbeta'ed, so any and all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title from the song “Our Language of Love.”
> 
> I do not consent to my work being hosted on any unofficial apps.

There have been dark clouds looming over Gotham all day.

Ed glances over at Oswald, who is resting against the table with the submarine schematic sprawled across it, his bad leg stretched out beside him. When he notices Ed’s gaze upon him, Oswald snaps his leg to his side, straightening his stance as best he can. Ed averts his eyes, a slight pang in his chest. Oswald’s limp has been more pronounced than usual all day, and Ed has noticed him not so subtly attempting to downplay it every time Ed so much as glances his way. 

Ed doesn’t understand the false bravado. He’s known Oswald for years, is intimately acquainted with his ailments from his time spent living with him and working closely at his side. Oswald had bad days during their time as mayor and chief of staff, but he never attempted to conceal them from Ed. Something deep inside him aches at the thought that, even with their tentative partnership in place, Oswald feels uncomfortable trusting him with something so simple. It’s a small but painful reminder of the ease they once had with one another that’s been lost to a constant cycle of betrayed trust. 

Ed stands up abruptly from his work tinkering on the pressure regulator valve. 

“I think I’m going to call it a night for now,” he announces, “take a break, eat something.” 

Relief breaks out across Oswald’s face before he quickly schools his expression.

“Yes! You deserve a rest after all your hard work,” he says, coming over to give Ed’s shoulder a friendly pat.

Oswald has been careful with Ed in other ways since the incident with Penn. More vocal with his appreciation of Ed’s efforts, more openly complimentary of his hard work. Another echo of their past together, of the days before Isabella, before Lee, before everything, when Oswald had sang Ed’s praises effusively and regularly to both the man himself and anyone else who would listen. 

Ed follows Oswald into the makeshift sitting area he’s made up just off the main library. Oswald slumps unceremoniously onto the couch Ed had managed to precure, unable to suppress a sigh of relief. He leans his head back, reaching down to unconsciously rub at his leg. 

Ed hesitates for a moment before crossing the room decisively. Oswald tracks his movements, brow furrowing in confusion when Ed stops at his feet, dropping down to his knees in front of him. 

“Here,” Ed says, beginning to roll up his trouser leg, “let me.” 

Oswald’s eyes widen as Ed wraps his hand around his ankle and begins working his fingers just below the joint. As though his mind has finally caught up with what is happening, he jerks his leg out of Ed’s grip, grimacing from the sudden motion. 

“No! No, that’s quite alright,” he says quickly, waving a dismissive hand at Ed. 

“Oswald,” Ed says, plaintive, “please.” 

The look Oswald gives him is so...raw, vulnerable and miserable and tentatively hopeful all at once. But he doesn’t stop Ed when he reaches for his leg again, and his shoulders visibly relax as Ed begins massaging his calf, eyes slipping shut. 

Edward’s brow furrows as he focuses his full attention on kneading the sides of Oswald’s leg, biting his lip as he strokes the tender flesh with his hands. He can feel the tension draining from Oswald’s body under his fingertips, his leg growing loose and pliant in Edward’s hands as he attends to it. 

Oswald lets out an involuntary moan of relief, and then snaps his eyes open, staring at Ed with embarrassed horror. He tries to pull his leg away again, but Ed keeps a firm grasp around his calf. 

“Oswald,” Ed says, steadily holding his gaze, “it’s okay.” 

Oswald’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. He looks away from Ed, forcibly closing his eyes and clenching his jaw. He doesn’t protest and he doesn’t move away, though, so Ed resumes work on the task at hand. 

Oswald’s body has tensed again, however, counterintuitive to Ed’s ultimate goal of alleviating some of his pain. Ed casts about for a way to recover the calming atmosphere from before. Ed smiles to himself, a memory coming to him. As he works his thumbs into the bend of Oswald’s knee, he begins to hum.

“‘Nothing Will Warm Me More’?” Oswald asks, voice rough. “My—”

“Your mother sang it to you,” Ed responds automatically. “I haven’t forgotten.” 

Oswald says nothing, but his sharp green eyes have grown soft as he watches Ed. Ed returns to his ministrations over Oswald’s leg, resuming his humming. After a few bars, Oswald’s voice joins his, seamlessly syncing with Ed’s over the familiar melody, and before long they’re breaking, nearly simultaneously, into song, giddily crooning the lyrics to one another between bouts of delighted laughter. The sense of déjà vu is palpable, and Edward is briefly transported out of their drab, run-down surroundings and back into his modest but cozy apartment, back to the moment the small space was warmed for the first time with the feeling of genuine friendship. 

“I haven’t had a singing partner in years,” Ed confesses once the song wraps up, grinning brightly. “Not since your days as mayor. I’ve...I’ve missed it.” 

It’s too much, a quiet confession that’s frothing from Edward before he’s had the chance to think it through, but the way Oswald’s face lights up in response makes the slip worth it. 

“So have I, friend,” Oswald replies, reassuring, matching Ed’s confession with his own. “So have I.”

They grin at each other, pleased with themselves and each other in a way that has crept up on them more and more frequently in recent days. The moment lasts overly long, grins slipping from their faces as they gaze openly at each other. The air in the room grows tense before Oswald clears his throat delicately and averts his eyes. Edward feels his own mouth tug down into a thin line as he rubs his fingers into Oswald’s sore muscles, turning his full concentration to the soothing circles he traces into Oswald’s skin. As he trails his way back down Oswald’s leg, his movements slow until his fingers still at Oswald’s ankle once more, carefully cradling his heel in his hand. 

“Better?” Ed asks, breaking the taut silence.

“Yes,” Oswald answers quietly, adjusting his pant leg back over his ankle, “thank you.” 

Ed merely hums in response, at last releasing Oswald’s leg and standing. 

He sits down beside Oswald on the couch, silence stretching out between them. 

“Ed, I—” Oswald begins, but his voice dies in his throat. 

There’s a long pause, Edward waiting patiently as Oswald finds his words again. 

“I just...I just want to say again how grateful I am to you for everything you do.”

Oswald meets his eyes tentatively, and the answering riddle spills off Ed’s tongue without hesitation.

“The easiest feeling you can think, though hard to maintain when thoughts sink. A fleeting word that keeps you warm; in times of need, shields you from harm. Hold me close, share me near; give me to those that you hold dear. What am I?”

Oswald raises an expectant eyebrow, smiling as he shakes his head. 

“Gratitude. Which is to say—the feeling is mutual.” 

Oswald’s smile grows warmer at the sincerity of the sentiment, ducking his head to avoid the earnestness of Edward’s gaze. He looks almost...shy, his dark eyelashes kissing his cheeks softly, and Edward swallows, feeling something sweet and aching bubbling up in his chest. It’s a distressingly familiar feeling as of late. 

Ed opens his mouth to speak, drawing in a slight intake of breath. Oswald looks up at him expectantly. But when Ed goes to push the words past his tongue, he finds nothing comes out. 

He and Oswald stare at each other for a long moment, so many things passing silently in their shared gaze. But still unspoken, like so much in their long, tangled history. 

Instead of breaking the silence, Ed reaches out, clasps Oswald’s hand in his and squeezes it briefly. Then he stands, patting Oswald’s knee before brushing off his work coveralls. 

“Now, what would you like for dinner?”

Oswald smiles and stands as well, following Edward out of the room, playfully listing lavish possibilities that they both know are a mere pipe dream in Gotham these days. If his step is a little lighter as he goes, well...that too goes unmentioned between them, but certainly not unnoticed.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe it probably took these morons 15 years to finally get their shit together? Neither can I. 
> 
> Ed’s riddle truncated and modified from the gratitude riddle on this blog: https://thesecretdmsfilesoffairdaymorrow.blogspot.com/2012/11/answer-to-mondays-riddle-attitude-of.html.


End file.
